


A Sansa Stark Thing

by jonsasnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Social Media AU, Tumblr Gift, and stuff, daytime talkshow host sansa, idk - Freeform, jon x sansa - Freeform, jonsa, jonsa exchange gift, mentions of jeor mormont, professional footballer jon, shy awkward jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:23:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: Professional football player Jon Snow is asked to come onto Sansa Stark’s daytime talk show and more than one person notices the sparks immediately flying off between them.





	A Sansa Stark Thing

As soon as Jon started fidgeting with his suit, Melisandre slapped his hand away and fixed him with one of her legendary glares. He sighed in defeat. No matter how many times they put him in an expensive monkey suit, Jon would never get used to the feeling. It wasn’t him. None of it was him. When he first kicked a football at age five, Jon never thought in a million years that he would be forced to make talk show appearances and answer questions about his personal life.

Frankly, he never thought he would be captain of Winterfell Football Club either, but here he was, standing in a cramped little dressing room with the club’s crazy superstitious publicist in some designer suit he forgot the name of already.

Jon opened his mouth to ask Melisandre if there was any chance he could cancel now when his phone beeped in his pocket. He pulled it out and quickly checked his messages.

**[Group: The Brotherhood]**

**Edd:** Try not to throw up on Sansa bloody Stark. She’s a national treasure.

 **Sam:** You’ll do great, Jon! But yeah, try not to throw up on her.

 **Tormund:** Are you kidding? She’s a beautiful redhead. Of course Jon’s gonna throw up on her.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips before he could stop himself, eliciting a sharp glance from Melisandre, who had been busy typing into her phone up until then. Jon offered her a half smile, but she knew him well enough now to see right through that.

“Stick to the plan and we can avoid another Good Morning Britain debacle,” she said icily.

Jon winced at the reminder. It hadn’t been his crowning moment, especially since it happened only a month after he was announced as Winterfell’s newest and youngest captain. That and Tormund and the boys being photographed getting into a bar brawl was what forced the club owners to hire Melisandre in the first place. Winterfell was a great team full of great players with incredible work ethic, but off of the pitch, they were all a bit of a nightmare. Jon readily admitted that. It was probably the only reason he was agreeing to all of these dumb interviews.

A knock on the door signaled the five minute warning, and Melisandre immediately ushered him out into the corridor towards the edge of the set. Jon hadn’t managed to meet Sansa Stark yet on account of him running straight from training to this interview, but watching her now sitting there in her element, he really wished he had. It might have stilled the nervous butterflies fluttering in his stomach; or maybe it would’ve made it worse. Jon couldn’t be sure, but all he knew was this woman was far more beautiful than she appeared on screen and every time she smiled, Jon kind of wanted to drown in her deep winter blue eyes.

“But enough of that, let’s welcome our next guest! The infamous Jon Snow, captain of Winterfell Football Club!”

The crowd roared and Jon let loose another soft sigh before plastering on a bright smile and stepping out onto the set. The bright lights blinded him momentarily, their heat already beginning to make him sweat through his suit, but somehow Jon found his way to the sofa without incident. His smile however turned genuine as soon as his eyes caught hers.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Jon,” Sansa said as she stuck out her hand.

His heart lodged itself in his throat the second he grasped on, the contact sending a jolt up his spine so shocking he nearly let go altogether, but Jon caught himself just in time to smile wider. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

She looked just as startled as he felt. “Yes, please. Have a seat.”

Jon nodded, settling himself onto the sofa in front of her. God, she was even more beautiful up close with her long copper hair, beguiling smile and that sinful body wrapped in a tight burgundy dress. If he didn’t visibly drool over her like some kind of pathetic ape, he’d call that a win.

“I have to be honest, Jon,” she began, making him instantly think about how much he loved hearing his name on her lips and shamefully regretting it a second later. “I don’t know a _thing_ about football. I could ask you the generic questions I was given here on my card.” She raised her hand to show him. “But that’s just boring, isn’t it?”

The audience murmured in agreement and Jon could practically hear Melisandre screaming in the background somewhere about how unprofessional this was. Determined to keep Sansa from getting into trouble with her producers, Jon gave her his most charming grin. If he could be entertaining for one afternoon without causing some sort of PR disaster then no one could blame Sansa for deviating from the script.

“If we’re being honest then I have to say I’m getting real bored of the generic questions as well,” he said.

Sansa laughed, bright and clear. Surprise flashed in her eyes for a brief moment, as if she hadn’t meant to do that and it made him feel rather smug for being the cause. “What kind of questions should I be asking you then?” She arched her brow; it was a challenge.

“That’s not my job, Miss Stark,” Jon said, chuckling. “I kick a ball around for a living. Why don’t you surprise me?”

“Call me Sansa.” Her voice was quiet, almost as if they were in a private conversation and not sitting in front of a live audience, being televised to all of Scotland. She crossed her legs and Jon had to physically force himself to keep his eyes on her face, but when she leaned forward, elbows pressed onto her knees, he couldn’t help glancing down. At least he was right about his first assessment of her: she had the most sinful body of any woman he’d ever met. But now he probably looked like Scotland’s biggest creep. He hoped no one noticed that.

“I guess we can start with something easy,” she said, smiling. “Is it true you broke up with Ygritte Campbell over a text?”

“What?” He couldn’t help the laughter from bubbling up. “This is your ‘easy’ question?” Sansa shrugged, her smile turning wicked and mischievous. Jon shook his head. “I’m not looking forward to what your hard questions will be. But no. That’s not what happened.”

He might be imagining it but Sansa almost looked relieved at his answer. He probably was imagining it. Why would she be relieved?

“Would you care to elaborate then?”

“Ygritte and I were together a long time, but towards the end, we realised we were going weeks then months without really speaking. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. We’re both professional athletes and our schedules are hectic.” Jon shrugged a little. “But eventually, we realised we’d broken up without ever saying the words, so I did text her but to say that…” He paused, suddenly realising this _wasn’t_ a private conversation. He glanced out towards the audience and laughed awkwardly. “Actually, I’ll keep that to myself. I think Ygritte might kill me if I told all of Scotland.”

Sansa chuckled and followed his gaze towards the hundred odd people sitting there watching them. “I think that’s the first time I forgot you guys were there. I’ve never seen the audience so quiet.” The audience laughed, and it was so clear they adored her.

“Maybe your easy question bored them,” Jon teased, unable to help himself. Sansa’s eyes snapped back to his; the mirth dancing in them made his heart constrict so painfully he wanted to cry out.

“Is that so?” Sansa grinned. “Okay, tough guy. You want a hard question?”

Jon crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look as at ease as he could despite the ramming of his heart against his ribcage. “Try me, Stark.”

“What really happened on Good Morning Britain?”

The audience ooh’ed loudly and Jon let out a bark of laughter. He had predicted she’d ask him that just as he could predict Melisandre’s likely breakdown right at this moment, but he only leaned back, keeping his eyes focused on Sansa. She returned his gaze with that wicked smile of hers and it made him want her all that much more.

“You really want to know?” Jon asked her, and she nodded in response. “It’s not that exciting of a story.”

“You’re deflecting, _Snow_ ,” she said. “Answer the question.”

He laughed again. “It really isn’t that exciting. They were hedging for gossip on Jeor Mormont as if the man hadn’t passed away a few months ago and I refused to be needled into saying anything. The man was a legend. Whether the accusations were true or not, it wasn’t anyone’s right to talk about it but the authorities.” Jon felt his body tense just thinking about it; he clenched and unclenched his fists. “And those accusations have all been proven false now anyway. Mormont lived and breathed Winterfell; he would never embezzle from the club.”

“My father knew Jeor Mormont,” Sansa said quietly, as she inched closer to him. “He was a great man. We never believed the accusations either.”

Jon looked up at that and the soft smile on her face soothed the tenseness from his shoulders. He wondered if it was possible to fall in love with someone in a manner of minutes.

“So is that why you –”

“No,” he said and then amended, “sort of. There’s no love lost between Alliser Thorne and I. The man fought me at every turn and hated that Mormont placed so much trust in me. When they brought Thorne on as a surprise guest, I had it. I knew what Thorne would say. I knew he’d defile Mormont’s name and so I told him to go screw himself and left.”

Sansa laughed and shook her head. “Honourable and brave. A far cry from the reckless caveman the media tries to paint you as, Jon Snow.”

He wanted to say something sarcastic and teasing, but he found himself blushing at her words. “No, anyone who knew Mormont would’ve done what I did.”

She abruptly gripped onto his hand, sending another jolt of electricity up his spine. “That’s not true. You put your reputation on the line. That’s brave. I don’t think I would’ve done the same.”

“You would’ve,” Jon replied earnestly.

“You’re a flatterer,” she mumbled, and turned away so she could face the camera. “We’re due for a break. Join us after for more candid talks with Winterfell’s Jon Snow, where he’ll be answering your questions. Tweet us with the hashtag ‘Ask Jon Snow.”

As soon as they cut for commercials, Jon felt the nervous tension swelling up again like it had done only moments before. Sansa appeared to feel the same if her shy smile was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry if the questions got a bit personal,” she said quietly. “I just…” Sansa glanced around them and seemingly satisfied that they weren’t the sole focus anymore, she moved to sit beside him on his side of the sofa. “The truth is I got into a fight with my prick of a producer. He wanted me to ask you all these questions and try to manipulate you in outing which of your teammates was involved in the bar brawl.” Sansa sighed. “So... I guess I just wanted to spite him.”

Jon chuckled, angling his body towards her. “My publicist warned me about your producer. Petyr, right? He sounds like a piece of work. You could be putting your job at risk doing this.” She shrugged, staring down at her hands. “And you said you couldn’t be as brave and honourable as you think I am,” he teased. “I think you’ve got plenty of both.”

Sansa looked up; her smile was so bright and so breathtaking he nearly leaned forward to kiss her right then and there. “Thank you. I – Oh, we’re back soon!” She jumped over to her side just as they counted the studio down.

“Welcome back! For those of you just tuning in, we’re here with Winterfell’s captain Jon Snow,” Sansa said and gestured towards him. “Over the break, you’ve been tweeting us some of your most pressing questions so without further ado, let’s get to it.”

They both turned towards the large screen behind them and waited for the first tweet to come in.

**Dayna Birch @mizdayna**

_Soooo… when exactly is Jon going to ask out Sansa? #askjonsnow #crazysexualtensionright_

Sansa spluttered and Jon turned a bright red. He looked to her, but she was too busy glaring at someone else.

“Um… let’s move on, okay?” Sansa said with an awkward laugh. “Next question!”

**Tom Woods @twoods27**

_J_ _on mate do u have a thing 4 redheads or something? #askjonsnow #firstygrittenowsansa_

“Okay, who is in charge of this?” Sansa looked furious, and Jon would have to be lying if it didn’t turn him on a little to see her so fired up on his behalf.

“It’s okay,” he said, surprising both himself and her. “I can answer this.” If he was a more confident man, he’d wink, but Jon just rubbed the back of his neck and hoped he didn’t sound like a total idiot. “I have a thing for beautiful intelligent women and Ygritte and Sansa are both those things.”

Sansa’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “Um… thank you.” She averted her gaze and looked back at the screen. “Let’s have the next question.”

**Tormund Giantsbane _Verified Account_ @tormthegiant **

_Jon, if you don’t ask her out, me and the lads are going to kidnap Ghost and shave all his fur off. #askjonsnow_

“That’s not even a question!” Sansa cried out.

Jon dropped his face into his hands and groaned. “I’m going to kill them. I really am.”

“One more question,” he heard her say. “And that’s it. We’re scrapping this segment forever.”

Reluctantly, he looked up and watched as the screen fade to black before another tweet popped up on screen. This one didn’t nearly make him want to fling himself off of a cliff as much as the others.

**Anna Lee @leeanna**

_I love you two together so much. Can u please come back on the show, Jon? #askjonsnow #teamjonsa_

“As long as Sansa will have me,” Jon answered immediately, turning to look at the host in question. Somehow the words felt more important than just simply asking to come back on the show and Sansa seemed to recognise that as well.

She smiled softly. “Any time you’re free.”

By the time the show wrapped up and Jon had psyched himself up enough to go wait in the corridor outside of Sansa’s dressing room, most of the crew had gone home. Apparently Sansa liked to stay late to review footage of the show. It had become tradition for her now and everyone knew not to bother her after, or so her personal assistant had told him, but Jon waited anyways. There was just something he had to do, and maybe blurting it out as soon as the door opened wasn’t his best move, but Jon didn’t have the most tact when it came to charming women.

“I’m free now.”

Sansa’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“I’m…” Jon cleared his throat and chuckled. “I’m free now. And apparently if I don’t ask you out, they’re going to shave my very furry dog.”

Realisation dawned in her blue eyes and she smiled. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“No,” he agreed as he stepped closer. “Definitely not.” He could feel her breath on his lips and the sensation nearly drove him mad, but he kept himself contained long enough to ask. “So will you go out with me, Sansa Stark?”

“Only for your dog, Jon Snow.”

“Thank god,” he exhaled, and chuckling, he cradled her cheeks in between his hands and kissed her soundly on the lips. To his great pleasure, she reciprocated immediately, wrapping her own arms around his neck, and pressed her body up against his.

So maybe he did have a thing for redheads, but after that first kiss, Jon would bet that Sansa could dye her hair bright green and he’d still fall head over heels for her. It was simply a Sansa Stark thing.

 


End file.
